Memories from Hetaoni
by LordofCamels
Summary: Moments from Hetaoni written out dramatically, with some of my own additions. This story is VERY dramatic. Only rated teen for some graphic descriptions and swearing.
1. The First Time Loop

**WARNING: This Fanfic is based off the RPG "Hetaoni." It will contain spoilers. Because I will only be writing about certain parts, I suggest watching Hetaoni before reading this, as you will probably be very confused otherwise. In other words, this story might not makes very much sense if you have watched Hetaoni.**

**I also don't own Aooni, Hetaoni, or Hetalia.**

**Ok, so I've been meaning to do something like this for Hetaoni for a long time. I added some lines and scenes, but it stays true to the dialogue for the most part. For now, it's just a one time thing, but I might add more chapters and just see where it takes me. Here goes...**

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><p><em>The only thing I can remember, so clearly that it takes my breath away, is the first time. When we all came here together. I did nothing to help. I had to be protected, like always, and all around me, my friends were getting hurt. One after the other, they lost their lives before my eyes. And then I was alone.<em>

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><p>Italy dropped down into the trap door, landing hard. He winced as his foot made a small popping sound, but fear drove him to forget the pain. Where was Japan? Everyone else had forgotten. No one else even remembered Japan had come to the house, but Italy could vividly remember him coming here. Japan had promised he wouldn't be too long, but how long had it been since he had made that promise? Italy struggled to remember. How long had it been since they had decided to split up? He needed to find Japan quickly, before the thing did.<p>

"Japan?" Italy called, tentatively. He heard a noise and squealed, "EEEEE! It's the THING! Please don't kill me! I don't DIEEEEEEEE!"

"Italy-san? Is that you?" Italy stopped begging for his life. The weak voice he had heard scared him more than the thought of the monster. He knew that voice. For the first time, Italy noticed the blood. Blood, dripping down the white walls, and splattered on the floor like some child's painting. Italy's eyes widened in horror as his gaze found the center of the room. An elegant white piano sat there, the lid propped open to create graceful curves of negative space.

"Italy-san!" the voice came again. Louder this time. Italy gathered his courage and stood, making his way to the source of the voice; the piano. It was covered in blood too. Italy looked around the piano and his heart suddenly stopped.

"J-Japan?"

"Hello Italy-san... It's good to know you're alright." Japan was slumped against the white piano bench, his blood staining the ivory keys red.

"What happened Japan!" Italy asked, falling to his knees at his friends side and taking his hand. Japan's breathing was rough and shallow,

"I met the thing, here. In this room. I locked the door. I didn't want anyone to get hurt..."

"Japan! You said you wouldn't be gone too long!" Italy said,

"I might have lied to you Italy-san," Japan admitted, "I'm sorry." Italy felt tears gathering at his eyes,

"Don't apologize Japan." Italy said, "I'm the one whose sorry. I should have been there."

"Never mind that," Japan said, "Take the key to this room and leave." Japan opened his hand and let a blood stained golden key fall out of it. Italy didn't take the key.

"You say that like you're not coming with me," he said. Japan laughed a little,

"I don't want to lie to you again Italy-san." The island country said, smiling a little, "Please don't make me." Italy didn't want to hear the words his friend was saying. It looked so painful for Japan to talk at all.

"How can you smile now?" Italy asked trying to hold back his tears, "I tried so hard to get you to smile at home. How can you smile now?" Japan didn't answer for a few moments.

"Maybe it's easier for one to smile when he sees the end..." Italy shook his head violently, as if trying to dispel a bad dream.

"D-don't say that! Wait just a minute! I'll make bandages out of this white flag and stop the bleeding!"

"Just leave here Italy-san," Japan instructed, "Go help the others. Fortunately, they've forgotten... that I came here... Please leave me..." Italy stared at Japan in disbelief,

"Of course I can't do that! Just- I'll make bandages right now! Please!"

"Italy."

"Wh-What?"

"You don't have your white flag any more, do you? You've already used all of it to make bandages for the others-" Japan stopped and coughed. Blood came up.

"No! Don't talk Japan!" Italy urged, "I still have plenty of white flag. L-look! I just made it! I'll help you!" Japan's eyes flickered and Italy panicked, "No... No! Japan! I'll do anything, just stay here a little longer! You're going to be ok!" Japan stared at Italy, his eyes out of focus.

"I'm not going to lie to you Italy-san," Japan said, "so please don't lie to me. My eyes may be dulled, but not blind." Italy had no more words left that he could say. Japan's breaths were growing shorter and more painful, and yet he managed to speak again. "It is so...frustrating," Japan clenched his fists as he said this, and he no longer tried to smile. "till the end, I wanted us to get out... together..."

The wavering light in Japan's eyes went out. Italy just sat there for what seemed like centuries, trying to comprehend the overwhelmingly impossible idea that one of his friends was...was...there it was again. That was the part he could never get right.

Italy hated himself in that moment. He hated the small, utterly detached part of himself that was aware of how horribly beautiful the room was. How the red complemented the white walls so perfectly, the elegance of the crimson stained piano, and the red flower blooming over his friends heart. He hated the artistic side of him, which realized that was beautiful too.

"I can't stay here!" Italy thought, "Japan doesn't need my help anymore." But he didn't move. Slowly, his hand reached out and grasped the key Japan had dropped earlier. It was covered in quickly drying blood. Italy began to chip the blood off of the key. He watched the red flakes peal away from the gold skin of the key and flutter down like autumn leaves. Then he noticed the blood was on his fingers. It was soaking into his cloths too, sticky and warm like sap bleeding from a tree. Italy stood. He had to get away from this room. This horrible, painful, beautiful room. He had to find Germany.

He got up and ran. He ran to the door, and with bloody fingers, unlocked it. Italy fumbled the key, and dropped it twice, then finally succeeded in locking the door behind him. He pressed his back against the door, as if holding in all the horrible beautiful things trying to get out, then he shoved the key underneath the door. Only then, did Italy notice his tears. He wondered how long he'd been crying. Angrily, he wiped the eyes. He needed to wash the blood off his hands and out of his cloths. The others must never know about this room. He couldn't let them see.

~Japan has been lost~

Italy locked the door to the second floor room behind him. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for the tell tale sound of the monster's footsteps. There was nothing.

"We're safe!" he declared, turning to face his friends, "It can't get us in here."

"Good," Prussia sighed, relaxing a little. China laughed out loud with relief and fell back against the wall. Russia just smiled his usual creepy smile. France sat down on the floor, breathing heavily,

"France," Italy asked with a worried expression, "are you ok?"

"I'm fine," France said, "just a little worn out. I need to catch my breath."

"Me too," China said, slumping down on the floor next to France, "Maybe I'm getting to old for this kind of thing."

"Now you just sound like Japan," Russia said, joining France and China. China snorted but made no other comment.

"Damn," Prussia swore, "that thing really took a toll on us this time. I hope West is okay..." Italy's stomach churned as he remembered the other search group wandering around the mansion somewhere. He would have liked to go out looking for them, but he was too afraid. The thing was still out there.

"We should go look for them. Germany and the others..." Italy said,

"Yes, we really should," Russia agreed, but neither he, France, or China showed any signs of moving. Finally, China laughed again.

"I'm sorry," He said, "I think you'll have go on ahead of us. We'll catch up later."

"Well, I'm glad we could make a new breach, at least..." Russia sighed,

"Oh come now Italy, don't cry," France said, noticing Italy's tears, "you just run. If you stay here, that monster is going to show up again."

"But..." Italy didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. France looked to Prussia,

"You'll take care of Italy, wont you?" He asked, "He's fast on his feet, but when it comes to fighting, he'll need your help." Prussia nodded,

"Understood." He said, looking very grim.

"That's good," France said, sounding very relieved. He closed his eyes,

"France?" Italy asked, but France didn't answer. Italy felt numb.

"Quickly," Russia said, "don't let all our efforts be in vain. Really, you're slow on the uptake."

"If you stay here," China said, "you'll only get in the way. Just run away, quickly." Italy didn't want to go. He grabbed Frances wrist, and started feeling for his pulse. He had to make sure that his friend was alive.

"Let's go Italy," Italy felt Prussia's hand on his shoulder, pulling him away, "We have no time for that."

"Hold on a second," Italy said. He just had to make sure,

"Let's get out of here," Prussia said, pulling Italy away from Frances side. Italy fell back, and Prussia pulled him to his feet.

"Wait, I haven't found his pulse yet," Italy cried. Prussia stared at Italy like he wanted to tell him something, but couldn't get the words out. Then Italy noticed how sad Prussia's eyes were.

"Let's just go," the Germanic nation said finally. With that, Prussia headed for the door, and Italy followed without further argument. Before closing the door behind him, he took one last look back at his friends. He wondered briefly, what point was it that he had started calling them friends? Then the door was closed and he had to run.

When Italy and Prussia had left, China sighed heavily. He let his hand fall to the ground, revealing a gapping wound. There was no longer any reason to hide it. He winced. China couldn't remember the last time he had felt pain like this.

"You really are perfect for the role of a villain," he said to Russia,

"You're quite the actor yourself," Russia retorted, smiling his creepy smile. China didn't bother replying.

"I have to find... Japan..." He muttered, "I've gotten sluggish here... I forgot again..." China's last sentence faded to silence.

"...China?" Russia asked. There was no answer. He glanced over toward the Asian nation. China's eyes were closed and his face held a peaceful expression. Russia had seen that kind of face before, he just never expected to see it on China's face. He sighed.

"Even in this place... I'm all alone again..." Russia had always put all his energy into surviving. He had never thought about how lonely survival was. He was always the last one standing, and he hated it.

Russia's vision had begun to blur. Darkness pulled at the edges of his eyesight. He felt warm, comfortable. The pain of his wounds was all but gone, or perhaps, his wounds had grown too painful for him to feel it. The room around him was nice and cozy, a fire had been lit earlier, and it had not quite died yet. But there was a huge empty hole in his chest. A hole that hadn't been left there by a monster. "They should be here..." He thought, "Belarus, Ukraine, and everyone, anyone! I just wish there was someone here..." He reached out and grabbed China's hand. It was still warm.

~France has been lost~

~China has been lost~

~Russia has been lost~

Italy struggled up the stairs, hulling an unconscious England on his shoulders. Up ahead, he could see America, carrying Canada, who was also unconscious. Behind him, he heard the thing stomping around on the third floor.

"Hurry!" America called, "There's a room on the fourth floor where we can hide." Italy's reply was incoherent. America looked back at Italy, who was struggling to carry England, sighed, then climbed down a couple stairs. "Here, I'll take him," He said, taking England from Italy. Italy took a moment to catch his breath.

"Thank you America," He said finally,

"No problem, let's just get to safety for now." Italy didn't understand. America had way more injuries than him, and yet he was managing to carry both England and Canada up the stairs. He really was a strong nation. The two finally reached the fourth floor. America kicked open the door to one of the rooms and they stumbled inside. He lay England and Canada in the two beds the room contained, and Italy helped him bandage the two nations various wounds.

"There," Italy said, finishing a bandage on England's forehead, "now I'll help you, America,"

"That's okay Italy," America said, waving him aside, "I don't need anything, you just make sure those two idiots are all right." Italy hesitated, but he did as America said. In the mean time, America sat down on the floor, leaning against one of the beds. Italy waited until he thought America wasn't watching, then he grabbed Canada's wrist and placed his thumb on the vein.

"You should probably find Germany and Prussia," America was saying, "I don't think I could run fast enough right now."

"Un," Italy nodded, but he wasn't paying attention. He needed to make sure.

"Are you listening Italy?" America asked,

"What?" Italy asked, losing his grip on Canada's wrist and letting it fall back on the blood stained sheets. America sighed.

"I was saying that you should probably run on ahead and meet up with Prussia and Germany." Italy stared and America.

"What about you?" He asked,

"We'll be fine," America assured him, "so just get out of here and get us reinforcements or something."

"If I go," Italy said, "even you will get hurt beyond help-"

"It's fine." America said, adamantly. "Besides, I want to do these two a favor, and stay with them." Italy thought about Canada. His wrist was cold when he had touched it.

"America-" Italy started, but America cut him off with a deep sigh.

"No, that isn't it," He said, looking up at the ceiling. "I'd never admit it to them, but they can't hear me anymore, so I'll tell you in full honesty." America closed his eyes. He looked as if he was remembering something both very painful, and very beautiful. "I want to stay with them," he said at last, opening his eyes, "till my last moment. Because they're both very important to me."

Italy turned away. He clenched his fists so tightly that they hurt.

"And because you're going to protect me, right?" he asked, trying to keep anger and frustration out of his voice.

"Haha! Yeah. Stupid really. I can't even move anymore. Some protecter." He laughed again. "I'm not making a mistake. And I regret nothing. Go for it, I wish you luck." Italy looked America in the eyes, preparing to refuse. He was going to stay here with America, and fight with him. But America's face was so fierce, that Italy couldn't say anything. He looked away, a little ashamed. Italy stood there until couldn't bare to be in that room any longer. He left.

America groaned.

"Shit," He muttered, wincing and clutching his side. A large gash ran across his stomach, oozing blood. He tore off part of the bedsheets and wrapped it around his waist, hoping it would serve as a bandage for now. America took out his pistol and emptied out all the bullets. Only five left. He'd have to make them count.

America waited. He dragged himself to a spot just between Canada and England. For a while he held both of there hands, humming tunelessly to ward off the silence. Then it Thing entered almost silently. America tightened his grip on his revolver and got unsteadily to his feet.

"I knew you'd come," he growled, voice filled with hatred, "I know you want them. You want to eat all of us, you bastard!" The thing walked forward with horrible slowness, as if it knew it had cornered it's prey. America limped over in front of England's bed and raised the revolver. "I wont let you!" He shouted at the thing. He fired. One bullet to the head, one to the chest. The thing didn't flinch. America swore and fired again."Damn you!" he shouted, "I won't let you take them!" He ran out of bullets. America flung out his arms in a desperate attempt to shield England and Canada. The Monster struck him from the side, sending the valiant nation flying sideways into the wall. Satisfied that its opposition had been crushed the Thing then turned to the two fallen countries lying in the beds.

"Wait!" the thing looked up. America was on his feet again, one hand clutching his shattered ribs, "Wait," he said again, "get away from them! We're not done yet." He had no plan. He didn't know what he was supposed to do without a weapon. America reached out, and his hand found a chair leg. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

"Stay back!" he yelled, raising the chair and swinging it like a club. "Get away!" amazingly, the Thing took a few steps back, confused. America clubbed the Monster over the head with the chair and his makeshift weapon broke in half. The Monster stumbled backward, and America hurled the half of the chair that he had at the retreating demon.

The Thing shook it's head, regaining it's balance. It was angry now. It straighten and came again. Time to finish this for good. America had turned his back to the enemy, to check that England and Canada were unharmed. When he turned round again, the thing caught him in the stomach. It drove it's arm right through, impaling America against the wall. The young nation's eyes widened with shock, gazing incomprehensibly at the grey spear protruding from his chest. Blood splattered on the floor as America coughed. The thing pulled it's arm away, and America fell to the ground, landing in a pool of his own blood.

The Thing turned back to his prey, satisfied. There was no way anyone could still be alive after that. It loomed over England. Feeding time! Suddenly, there was a disturbance. The Monster felt it. Someone had taken the key! The same force that led it to find and kill drove the Monster to abandon it's prey. It rampaged out of the room, leaving silence in it's wake.

America was not dead. Not that this mattered much. No matter how hard he tried, his body would not obey his commands. He needed to get up, his friends still needed him, didn't they? America's head was fuzzy and throbbing. He could not speak. Blood was clogging his lungs. "It's so quiet..." He thought, "I wish it wasn't so quiet... I need to tell them... how sorry I am..."

~America has been lost~

~England had been lost~

~Canada has been lost~

Italy heard a loud crash, and the door to the basement room shuddered. It was here, trying to get in from the sound of things. Italy stood, paralyzed. Every fiber of his being wanted to run, but he knew he had to wait. Germany and Prussia had told him to wait. If he ran now, they might get separated, and he could not allow that to happen ever again. Splinters flew everywhere as the Thing threw itself into the door. Italy gasped in fear, clenching his fists tighter. He couldn't run, not yet. He had to wait. The Thing ripped at the door, creating a gap through which Italy could see it's horrible empty eye. He sank back against the wall. Where was Germany?

The door shattered. Shards of wood flew everywhere. Italy crouched with his head over his arms to avoid the deadly wooden missiles, and when he looked up again, it was there. Standing in the doorway. It's huge alien face showed no emotion, it never did. Italy couldn't have run now, even if he wanted to. Fear held him in his place, backed up in a corner. The monster stared at him, eyes like black holes, then slowly took a step forward.

"G-Go away!" Italy whispered hoarsely. The thing kept coming. "Germany!" Italy screamed, "Germany! Help!" But Germany wasn't there. There was no one but him. Italy could have sworn he saw the thing smile as it drew back it's bloody hand.

"DIE!" It roared.

"GET AWAY!" Something threw itself between Italy and the monster blocking the attack. Italy gasped,

"Germany?" He asked. Germany smiled grimly,

"You idiot," he muttered, "of all the times to hold your ground..." Germany grabbed Italy's arm and pulled him out of the way, as the monster reared back, preparing for another attack. "Move!" He yelled, and Italy tried to obey. He stumbled after Germany, but...

"Ah!" Italy screamed as the thing grabbed hold of his foot.

"Italy!" Germany yelled, turning around, but he was too far away to reach Italy in time.

"Aren't you forgetting someone you slimy grey lump!" Someone yelled. It was Prussia. He had snuck up behind the monster while it had been distracted. He leapt up into the air, and sunk his sword into the back of the monsters neck.

"Prussia!" Italy yelled as the thing let go of his foot, "You saved me!" Prussia grinned,

"The awesome me needs no thanks! Just take West and-" Suddenly, the Thing twisted around violently, shaking Prussia off it's back. Prussia hit the ground hard and yelped.

"Shit!" Germany yelled. He lifted is pistol and fired three rounds into the Monster's shoulder. As the Thing turned it's attention to Germany Italy ran to Prussia's side.

"Are you ok?" He asked,

"Ach- yeah, I'm fine." Prussia said, gingerly touching his side. "Broken ribs," He thought, but he didn't say anything aloud.

"Can you still move?" Italy asked,

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Prussia asked, standing up to quickly and wincing. "Where'd it go?" Germany was currently holding the Thing at bay, but he couldn't last much longer. Prussia threw his sword and the thing. He aimed for it's back, but the sword lodged in the back of it's leg. All the same, the attack had the desired effect. The monster turned to face them, giving Germany the chance to fire another five rounds just below it's jaw. The Thing staggered back.

"Nows our chance!" Italy yelled, "Run!" the three nations dashed to the doorway where the Thing had come in, Italy in the lead. He lead the through the next room and into the room after that, closing the door behind them and locking it. It was a much heavier door then the one that the Thing had broken earlier. Even so, Italy went to work barricading it with chairs and shelves. He leaned against them, even then doubtful that the barricade would hold if the Monster tried to get in again.

"Are you okay Italy?" Germany asked, looking over at the small nation huddled against the barricade of chairs, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," Italy answered, "Thanks to you." He noticed Germany had a lot more wounds than before, ones he couldn't have gotten while saving Italy. Prussia was the same. "How did it go?" Italy asked, "You know, the exploration? Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, we got a key back!" Prussia said, presenting a golden key. Italy stared at the key and felt a burning sensation in his throat.

"You-you've had to fight the Thing, didn't you?"

"Well," Germany admitted, "It was more of a strategic retreat than a fight..."

"I should have been there." Italy said, choking. Tears were now rolling down his cheeks, making paths through blood and dirt.

"Hey, stop crying." Germany told him, "We went though a lot of trouble to get it back. You should be happier." Italy wiped his tears away angrily, making smudges across his face.

"Why!" He shouted, "Why did you lie to me? You said you were just going to take a quick look around! You said you were going to be careful! You said you wouldn't get hurt! Why did you lie?" Germany sighed,

"Well, probably for the same reason you haven't told us that everyone else is dead." His words shocked Italy,

"You knew?" Germany smiled.

"I'm sorry."

"Haha!" Prussia laughed, "Secrets out then. Why don't we sit down West? I'm really tired." He sat down, leaning against the wall across from the door.

"So am I," Germany said, joining his brother. "You go on ahead Italy, and we'll catch up."

Italy got up. A chair fell loose from the barricade and broke on the floor. "You know who you sound like!" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm, "You sound just like Japan. He told me to go on. He told me to leave him. France too! France and Russia and China and England and Canada and America! I had to leave them. Why do I have to leave you too!"

"Italy..." Germany began, but Italy kept going.

"You promised! You pinky promised!" He shouted, stepping toward his friends "You swore always to be there for me when I was in danger! YOU CAN'T GO!" Italy's shouts turned into sobs. He fell to his knees, overcome with grief. Germany was quiet for a while. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm asking you to leave me. If you want me to follow you, you'll have to run off and get yourself into danger. There's nothing in this room for me to protect you from. Now go." Italy didn't move.

"I promised..." he whispered, half to himself, "I pinky swore on that day too. I promised to always be there when you needed help... I can't leave."

"Italy!" Germany looked like he wanted to lecture Italy, but he didn't. "Anyone who disobeys runs ten laps." Italy jumped. "You heard me," Germany continued, "ten laps."

"You'd better hurry," Prussia laughed, "or he'll make it twenty."

"Fine!" Italy said, "I'll run a hundred laps! Ten thousand! As many as you want! I'll run far far away from here. But then Germany will have to catch up to me... right?" Italy waited for an answer that never came. He could hear three heartbeats. Then, suddenly, he could only hear two heartbeats. "Prussi-" He cried, but then he could only hear one heartbeat. "Ger..ma...ny?"

Silence, except the beating of his own heart.

~Prussia has been lost~

~Germany has been lost~

Rain pounded heavily on the barred windows of a certain house in the mountains, as if the sky was weeping. Water streamed down the foggy glass like tears, pooling on the window cills. Italy was on the first floor. He couldn't bare to be on any other floor. The fourth floor was too quiet, the third floor was too beautiful, the second floor was too warm, the basement was too safe. Italy went to the library. He didn't really know why he went to the library, why he didn't leave the house right away. He half wanted the thing to show up.

He sat in the eerily lit room, tearing books off their shelves, opening some of them and ripping out the pages. He pulled out a beautiful leather bound book with a gold embossed title in a language he couldn't read.

"Japan loved books like this..." he murmured to himself. The thought of his friend made Italy choke. He didn't rip this book apart, instead, he hugged it close to his chest, stroking the spine. Italy got up suddenly, when he couldn't sit still anymore. Uncontrollable anger suddenly seized him. He couldn't see straight.

"Go away!" He shouted, lashing out at invisible demons. "Go away! GO AWAY!" Italy kicked a nearby table, but only succeeded in hurting his toe. Breathing hard, he leaned against the wall, holding the book tightly. "It hurts," He said through clenched teeth. Italy couldn't stay on the first floor anymore. He couldn't stand to be in this house anymore, because the fourth floor was too quiet, the third floor was too beautiful, the second floor was too warm, the basement was too safe, but the first floor was too lonely and it hurt. It hurt so badly, Italy wanted to rip his heart out to stop the pain.

Italy went to the door and took out the key. The key that had cost all his friends lives. He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. There was a faint click, and the door swung open. Italy stepped out into the pounding rain, tucking the book into his jacket so that it wouldn't get wet.

"I made it," He said miserably, "I'm the only one who survived, the only one who got out. I shouldn't have been able to get out..." Rain poured down Italy's face, washing away the dirt and blood from the mansion. The heavy rain was even soaking some of the blood out of his cloths erasing the memories of his time in the mansion. "What the hell?" He muttered, gripping his arms tightly, "This doesn't make any sense. Out of everyone, I'm the only one left?" Italy thought he was no longer able to cry, but tears once more leaked out of his eyes, mingling with the rain running down his face. "What the hell? What the hell?" He shouted.

The door to the house behind him opened suddenly. Italy jumped, then ran for his life. He didn't need to turn around to know that the thing was chasing him. He dashed across the wet lawn. He skidded to a halt at the gate, digging his feet into the mud as he turned to face the monster.

"Stop!" He yelled, and indeed, the thing did not seem to be able to take another step forward. "I won, right?" Italy asked it, "You couldn't catch me, and you can't chase me any more; you lost!" The monster remained silent. It's horrible, alien face showed no sign of emotion. "The moment I get out of here, you'll lose! There's nothing you can do from that distance!" Nothing. Italy scowled. "When I get out of here, this place won t be the same as before you know! As a nation, I will destroy this place!" Italy yelled, The thing stared blankly at him, no sign of any emotion escaping it. "Doesn't that make you frustrated?" Italy asked, weakly, "I'm your last trophy, after all. You lost to the guy whose only redeeming feature is his fast feet." The grey demon's black eyes remained icy and unmoved. In desperation, Italy picked up a stone and threw it. He missed.

"I should go," He thought, "It's not going to move, and I have no reason to stay here, now that I'm free." But he wasn't free. He had escaped, but instead of the happiness he had expected, he felt hallow. As if someone had taken a spoon and scooped out part of him. Italy couldn't move, he couldn't leave. A thought had occurred to him, a crazy impossible thought. But what if he was right?

"Take us back," He said to the thing, "you can do that? Can't you? This time is warped, so you can take us all back to the beginning, I know I'm right. If you can do that, you can try again. Eat me too! If you can catch me, that is." Italy stared at the thing's face, trying to read any kind of response.

"Come on!" Italy yelled, "I'm challenging you! You can lose to the guy with quick feet, but you better not prove yourself more of a coward than I am! Take us back!"

The next thing he knew, everything went dark. Italy felt his exhaustion from the last few days fading away. Everything was fading away to white. Then he was back at the beginning again.

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><p><strong>So there you have it. Thank you very much for reading. If you liked this story, please leave a review telling me what you liked. If you didn't like this story, please leave a review and give me some constructive criticisms. As I writer, I am always looking to improve. If you find a spelling or grammar mistake, then please, <strong>_**please**_** write a review and tell me! I usually have an editor, but she has yet to watch Hetaoni, so it's just me this time. I appreciate your opinions. Tell me which scene you would like me to write about next.**

** -Lord of Camels. **


	2. Sea of Lilies

** SPOILER ALERT. This is based on Hetaoni, a fan made RPG for Hetalia. It will have spoilers, and it may not make a whole lot of sense if you have not watched Hetaoni. Also, I don't own Hetaoni, Ao oni, or Hetalia.**

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><p><em>Germany: I want you to wait. Can I just ask you one thing?<em>

_Italy: Uh, sure._

_Germany: I want you to let me see this world's Italy. Or rather, I am going to see him. Are you coming with me?_

_Italy: No, I'd rather not I mean, he s dead and all I'll be waiting for you in the hallway._

_Germany: Sorry. I'll be right back._

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><p>Germany faced the plain wooden doorway and took a deep breath. He did not know exactly what to expect when he went inside, but he felt this strange urge to see the Italy of this world for himself. Germany turned the door knob, and entered. He was surprised, for it was no longer the drab room he had seen when he first entered the mansion.<p>

The sofas had been pushed aside, and the rug had been moved to the center of the room. Italy lay on the coffee table, which stood in the middle of the rug like an alter. And the flowers. Germany supposed England and his magic must've had something to do with them. The floor around Italy's resting place was inundated with incandescent lilies. They lay, as if a frozen steam falling from the makeshift funeral pyre in the center of he room, some even scattering beyond the edges of the rug. It seemed to Germany that each leaf, each delicate petal, was trembling ever so slightly, as if dancing to a breeze he could not feel.

Sunlight fell through the bars in the windows, landing like silk upon Italy's face. His resting place was like an island in a sea of blossoms. It was very simple, and yet, it fit the little nation perfectly.

"He would've liked it," Germany thought, "he had an eye for things like this." He strode through the sea of white, so he could stand right next to Italy. Germany stared down into the face of a nation he knew so well, and was surprised to see how little death had changed him. Recently, Italy had his eyes open so often, Germany had half forgotten what it was like to see them closed. It was almost as if he was alive, only sleeping, if not for the fresh wound across his chest. Germany's past self had done his best to clean and cover the wound, but it was impossible to erase an injury like that. An injury that had cost Italy his life. Other than this, Italy couldn't have looked more content. His skin seemed to glowed softly, his eyes were shut. Germany found it odd to see Italy looking so calm, without his usual foolish smile.

He struggled to find his voice. He had never known what to say to Italy in life, let alone in death.

"How strange." Germany thought, "Not long ago you were desperately trying to stop us at the front door."

"I'm so sorry," he said, "there are so many things I want to tell you, I just, don't know how..." He sighed. "This wont do. I keep blinking more and more..." It was so strange. Now that he had a million things to say, he could hardly speak past the lump in his throat.

"First, an apology." Germany said, and suddenly the words came tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, "I'm sorry I laughed at your valuable opinion. I'm sorry I ever thought you were weak. And... and... I'm sorry I never appreciated you for what you were, I never appreciated our friendship. I'm so sorry... I can't help thinking this is my fault. I kept losing my memories, and I couldn't help you. If you had just told me, maybe I could've done something." He had too stop then, it had grown too painful to speak.

"Don't cry," he told himself, "He wouldn't have wanted that. Which is funny. He would cry all the time. Somehow, though, I don't think he'd ever forgive me if I cried now."

For a moment, Germany tried to imagine what it must've been like for Italy, to watch all of his friends disappear one by one. If this was what it was like to lose one friend, what must've it been like to lose many?

"You're probably going to keep going through many time loops now..." Germany told his friend, "To do it again... Desperately trying to get us to escape... over and over. For some reason... I don't get back my past memories. That's why I'd like to keep my promise to you in my own way. It's quite a long story, but don't worry. I'll definitely keep my word, no matter what. Once I make a promise, I never forget. I will protect you until the day I die." Germany stopped. He kept on blinking.

"Don't worry," He said to the Italy in front of him, reaching out and grabbing his hand, "The Italy who is with me now is no longer alone. It must be the scene you were dreaming of. Everyone is with you. It definitely wasn't just a dream There will definitely come the day when you experience it first-hand." Germany reached down and scooped up a white lilly from the swell of flowers on the floor. Gently, he arranged Italy's hands on his chest, with the lilly clasped between his elegant fingers. It just seemed like the right thing to do, the final touch to a masterpiece.

"Until then, rest in peace Italy."

Germany left the room. Wandering back the way he had come through the uniform hallways, he wondered what it would be like when he died? Would Italy visit his grave? Would he have bought flowers? Maybe his friend would've brought pasta. Germany amused himself for a moment picturing Italy, gently placing a bowl of spaghetti down on his grave. It made it even more painful to remembered the sight of his friend with a long ugly gash across his chest, his eyes closed, lying in the middle of a sea of lilies.

Then, Germany saw someone standing at the end of the hallway. He froze, tensing. Was it one of their past selves? Then he recognized the figure. Italy? It couldn't be. Italy was dead, who was this spirit? It took Germany a few moments to remember that his friend wasn't dead. Not in the present anyway. Or was it the past? Germany shook his head. Thinking about time was too confusing now.

"Hi Germany~" Italy said, "How was I?"

"Hm? Oh. You were sleeping quite contentedly." Germany said. He had been distracted, glad to see Italy's smile again.

"Whoa! Don't cry Germany~" Italy said, alarmed to see tears in Germany's eyes, "I'm alive!"

"Sh- shut up!" Germany stuttered, embarrassed to be caught in such an emotionally vulnerable act, "I'm mourning. How can you be so nonchalant about it?" Italy laughed a little at his friend's discomfort. Then his eyes softened. He placed his hand on Germany's shoulder gently,

"Thank you," He said, "For crying for me. I'm so happy to have such a great friend. It's so good to have friends, isn't it? Every second I spend in this mansion will be worth it as soon as we all get out together." Germany just nodded. Hearing Italy's laugh, feeling his hand on his shoulder, warm and healthy, it made him so relived.

"Just don't you ever dare die on me again," Germany warned, which made Italy laugh again.

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><p><strong>So here's the second installment. It was a suggestion. I know it's a little short, but I think it turned out well. I had a lot of fun writing the description of the room. I'm probably going to keep editing it, but I kind of wanted to put this up now. I hope everyone likes it anyway. <strong>

**Thanks for all the support, and remember, it's just me editing it, so if you spot a spelling or grammar error, PLEASE tell me. Because as much fun as looking like a fool on the internet sounds, I'd much rather take the criticism. :) If you liked this story, please leave a review telling me what you liked. If you didn't like this story, please leave a review and give me some constructive criticisms. As I writer, I am always looking to improve. I appreciate your opinions. Tell me which scene you would like me to write about next.**

** - Lord of Camels**


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